[Intro: 50 Cent's son Marquise]
Yo daddy, these niggas ain't hood, drop that shit
[Verse 1: 50 Cent]
So what I grew up with them niggas? i ain't stuck with them niggas
We from the same hood, but I don't fuck with them niggas
Shit pop off, I touch one of them niggas
Cut one of them niggas, buck one of them niggas
Beg For Mercy, number four, I'm so hood
First LP, ten million sold, I'm so good
I thought niggas would love to see me shine
But it's making them sick to see me getting mines
Got that Benz, got that Bentley, and that new Bugatti
Got that Range, Aston Martin, and that new Ferrari
If it's making you sick to see me blow, I'm sorry
Dude, we used to be cool, but I ain't stuck with you, nigga
I grew up with you, nigga, but I don't fuck with you, nigga
Got shot in the back, then turned around and got shot in the eye
You ain't gonna shoot back, lay down and die
There's a message in my music, can you hear it, Kai?
Your mans never gonna blow, and you're the reason why
It's disease infested when I spit it any nigga can get it
Fuck the fronting and the rhymes that ass'll get flat-lined
"Can't we all just get along? We used to be friends"
Nah, fuck that, man we used to pretend
These niggas is comedians, I thought I was type funny
Five called, telling niggas, "Mutt need bail money"
On some real shit, would you bail a nigga out, son
That knew niggas was trying to kill you and wouldn't let you hold a gun? Think about it
Hahaha
[Verse 2: Lloyd Banks]
Regardless of what you done heard or hearing
Fuck all the comparing I dare them to come anywhere near him
They want someone famous to pout with
So I walk around with my gun like it came with the outfit
I don't really like to toot my own horn
But, beep, click clack, blat, go to sleep (Ugh)
We all know since you was in the class with Legos (Uh-huh)
You'd grow up to be as soft as mash potatoes
Your man gonna make me throw this nigga towards the window
And put his ass in the air like the Jordan symbol
All my diamonds are colored, I Fruity Pebble'd the right hand
Fifty-five grand on the bezel from Ice Man
They want to give your boy the 40 cal and nina, so I
Stay on my toes like a ballerina (Uh-huh)
I'm starving, nigga
The only one that can cut me and get away with it is my barber, nigga
'Cause I'll revolve a nigga, take a piece of your head
You'll have more room in your hat than a Harlem nigga
And now most of these subliminal raps
Be coming from the same niggas backstage giving you daps
Like, "yo banks you hot and everybody says it
And I think it'd be real big if we can do a record" (Ugh)
But now I'm on some other shit (True)
Like "I ain't fucking with none of you niggas on a record unless you my brother" shit
I'm an intelligent man (Uh-huh) and my elegant band
Got more colors than elephant man (Ugh)
Since hell is at-hand I mine as well expand hand over my can
Tan all over the lamb, lamb all over the sand
The sun all over the beach, your eyes all over my bitch
Her eyes all on your moves incase one of them switch
If you don't learn to relax and swallow steam
There'll be more shells in the grass than halloween
[Outro: 50 Cent]
Aww man, I'm having too much fun with this rap shit man, I'm too good at this shit
